


Yes, Daddy?

by Plasma_gore (FanFictionIsMyWeakness)



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aftercare, Also not crazy hardcore kinky sex, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Play, Dorks in Love, Explicit Sexual Content, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Flogging, M/M, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Top Richie Tozier, but it's decently kinky, degredation, floggers, pain play, this is filthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 19:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20030818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFictionIsMyWeakness/pseuds/Plasma_gore
Summary: Eddie is usually good, no matter how much Richie likes to give him shit for being a brat. If he does break a rule, it’s one that doesn’t matter or Richie doesn’t care about. He’s never really been punished, not in the nearly 10 years they’ve been together. But there’s one rule Eddie absolutely is not allowed to break, and on any other day he wouldn’t dare. Today, however....ORRichie comes home to Eddie jerking off and his Dom Brain kicks into overdrive





	Yes, Daddy?

**Author's Note:**

> I got bored so here's nearly 4.5k words of filth. This is not proof read.

Eddie needs to get dicked, and bad. This isn’t usually a problem. Often times, he and Richie go at it like rabbits, trying to squeeze as many dick appointments into their day as they physically can. Morning fucks are essential, or else Richie is a complete tool all day, and if they can’t get home for a quickie during their lunch breaks, Eddie will get shaky. Having sex at night is just part of the routine, they both need it to get to sleep and stay like that through the night, and if neither of them sleep well, then they won’t have the energy or the patience to fuck in the morning. They obviously have to take showers together. Partly because they’re hopeless and can’t spend more than a few hours apart or else Eddie gets weepy and Richie completely loses his shit, but also to save water  _ and _ it gives Richie an excuse to get his cock sucked. If so much as a day goes by without it, the physical closeness and the stress relief of a good orgasm, one of them will get whiny. More often than not, it’s Richie. 

Eddie thinks his husband has the mind of a twelve year old boy, and he’s always telling him so. If Richie is zoning out, all he has to do is bring up sex to get his mind right back toward the conversation. Any indication of a dirty joke or innuendo has him giggling like a child, any mention of intimacy can get his heart racing. They’re older now, proper adults with lives and a home and jobs to worry about, but that doesn’t mean Richie is any less hormonal then he’d been in high school. Actually, Eddie is pretty sure that getting Richie laid only made things worse. He’d always been sex crazed and ampted up, constantly making jokes and innuendos, talking about tits and porn and cocks until he turned blue in the face. There was the time their sophomore year when he explained to Stan the exact way he liked to get himself off and almost got thrown out a two story window, but that was always, in Richie’s mind, in good fun. He wasn’t a  _ maniac _ , practically foaming at the mouth for the sake of some action and ready to rip out chunks of his hair if Eddie wouldn’t let him touch him, for whatever reason. Eddie was much more of a prude back then, uptight and nervous. Comfort was a hard thing to find when he was still trying to hide from his mother’s wrath. 

But, in all fairness, it’s not like Eddie is much better. If Richie is busy, he gets pouty. If Richie is tired, he throws a fit. He dreams about it most nights. Not proper, puberty induced wet dreams, necessarily, but little glimpses of Richie’s hands or torso or anything else that could get him worked up without making him cum in his pants like a thirteen year old. And he  _ always _ wakes up horny, sweating and hot and half hard. He gets needy if they ever have to sleep apart. Richie goes on business trips once every blue moon and those are the  _ worst _ , because Eddie can’t call him at eight-thirty in the morning just to hear his voice. By then, Richie’s already busy in his grown up world and he can’t risk getting his husband off over the phone. 

But for the past  _ week _ , things have been different. Richie is in crunch mode. He has a huge project he’s been working on lately, which means he’s been up and out, filming at weird hours and hanging around the office until 3 am to edit. Usually, he works on smaller scale things, like commercials, music videos, things of that nature, but he and his team are entering in the Sundance Film Festival this year and it’s a big fucking deal. Eddie’s excited for him, he is, but he also fucking  _ misses _ him. He’s sick of coming home from the shop, grease stained and sweaty and just needing to be held, and finding Richie hunched over his computer with a million tabs open. He hasn’t even had the time to tear himself away from work long enough to sit down and eat dinner. For the past three days, Eddie is pretty sure his husband has only consumed black coffee and half a pack of cigarettes. Part of him is worried, but the worry isn’t what’s killing him. That’s just Richie, that’s how he’s always been. Sure, he could let himself relax and get someone else to take over, but he won’t, happier to just do it all himself so that his ‘ _ vision _ ’ can come to life, and Eddie knows that. He used to fuss a lot more when they first moved in together. Then these things kept happening and, well, Richie has never once expressed his hard work not paying off. No, the worry is only at the very back of Eddie’s mind. Mostly, he’s fucking  _ needy _ . 

When he comes home Friday night, sweaty and exhausted and fucking  _ yearning _ for it (which, Eddie is pretty sure he’s never  _ yearned  _ for anything in his life) it’s to an empty house. He groans, loudly, and immediately flops onto the sofa, face buried in the cushions. Richie is probably at the office with his team, working on post production stuff, because, lately, when is he not? And here Eddie is, practically sobbing for some dick in an empty house. Eddie hopes this isn’t what your mid twenties are  _ supposed _ to look like and if they are, he really lucked out in finding the love of his life so early on. He eventually has to stop moping around for the sake of taking a shower, but it sucks being alone in there and so he just finds himself moping more. This fucking  _ blows _ . 

A thought crosses his mind, but it’s kind of crazy. Well, Eddie supposes it isn’t  _ crazy _ , but it feels like it is. He hasn’t had to resort to that in a very, very long time. Plus it’s not the same. He can’t get himself off as well as Richie can, especially not without Richie’s voice in his ear, telling him exactly how to please himself. And, well. Richie won’t like it. He’s made it pretty clear that Eddie isn’t allowed to touch himself without permission, that he always has to ask before he gets to cum. And for their entire relationship, he’s been really, really good about honoring that. 

Eddie isn’t a brat. Richie likes to pretend he is because, well, sometimes Eddie gets playful. He likes to pretend he could be in charge if he wanted to, or that he doesn’t really  _ have  _ to listen (as if listening to his husband’s arbitrary rules doesn’t bring him an inexplicable, immense amount of joy) and so Richie likes to say he’s being bad. He almost never is. They both know he won’t do shit, that he’ll gladly bend to every single one of Richie’s whims. The worst it gets is when Eddie is in an ornery mood and he starts to insist that he could top if he really wanted to, that he’s actually a switch and he’s only a sub  _ all the time _ because Richie is strictly a dom. But, well. They both know that isn’t at all true. And Richie puts him in his place real fucking quick. Eddie always takes it. He doesn’t try to get out of it when his hands are tied, he doesn’t complain when he’s getting spanked or hit flogged, it’s always

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Please, Daddy.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” 

And, yeah, sure,  _ sometimes _ Eddie breaks rules, but they’re always the ones that don’t matter. Maybe he’ll stay up past his bedtime most nights, but it’s only because he’s busy watching movies with Richie. Or maybe he won’t always eat three meals a day, but that’s when he gets too busy to pause and take a break. Or, even sometimes, he won’t hold Richie’s hand when they’re out in public, but that’s only because sometimes he  _ has  _ to let go or run off. Richie never seems to care. 

But  _ this  _ is a big deal. Oh, this is a very, very big deal and Eddie doesn’t even want to know what will happen to him if he gets caught. Or, worse, if he doesn’t get caught but Richie finds out later. Eddie spends a good few minutes stressing over it, trying to decide his options as he stands in the middle of their living room, dressed in his unicorn boxers and Richie’s old gym shirt from high school

_ (DHS Phys. Ed _ , it reads.  _ Property of Richard W. Tozier.  _ It’s probably the softest thing Eddie’s felt in his life and it still kind of smells like him.)

_ Property of Richard Tozier, indeed _ , Eddie thinks, looking down at his wedding ring. Ah, fuck it. 

Eddie is probably the dumbest person he knows. This is a very bad idea and yet he doesn’t give a  _ shit _ . He lays across the couch, hair still sopping wet and body cool. His skin is soft. He smells good. Richie would have his way with him if he were here right now, and that’s the thought that manages to get Eddie all squirmy. He runs a hand over his stomach, toying with the waistband of his boxers for a moment as he eyes glance over to the front door. Richie could be home any minute, he thinks. He takes a deep breath and plunges his hand in. it doesn’t take much to get him hard, which Eddie finds kind of pathetic. Only a few light strokes and he’s already twitching with interest. He squirms. Fuck, he’s been so needy, and he  _ knew  _ that, but he didn’t really understand it until now. He grasps the base firmly, sucking his lower lip between his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut, and allows just a little more pressure as he strokes himself, twisting his wrist slightly as he reaches the head. Everything is so  _ sensitive  _ right now, and it’s kind of blowing Eddie’s mind. His thighs are already quivering, stomach muscles pulled taunt. He isn’t close, exactly, but if he speeds up just a  _ little bit _ \- 

“ _ Fuck! _ ” He shouts, except it’s more of a squeak and it makes him slap a hand over his mouth and curl in on himself, letting himself roll onto his side and bring his knees up to his chest. “Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ ,” he chants, but keeps his voice low, in something that’s barely above a whisper. He thinks about Richie and how much bigger his hands are, how many more wonderful places he can reach and how he always knows exactly where to touch and how. It almost hurts, it’s so intense, but Eddie  _ loves _ it. He didn’t truly understand the phrase  _ hurts so good _ until he started sleeping with Richie. 

And it  _ cock.  _ Fuck, Eddie is drolling just thinking about it. He’d been gagging for it since forever, even before they had started dating, when they were just make out buddies, alone in Richie’s bedroom on Friday nights, feeling each other up and squeezing and desperately not to tear at each other’s clothes like wild animals and Eddie had felt the outline of Richie’s boner pressed up against his thigh. It had driven him crazy at the time and he remembers thinking about how much he’d wanted it in his mouth. 

Eddie is close now. Everything is hot, the room sticky and too fucking warm, his body quaking. He speeds up, letting out a sob as if it beg no one in particular to be able to cum.  _ Please, Daddy, please, _ Eddie thinks,  _ please, I wanna cum so bad. _ He’s so, so close, right on that edge, ready to blow, fuck  _ fuck-- _

“What the fuck is this?” 

Eddie hadn’t even noticed the front door open. He freezes, heart dropping to his stomach as he scrambles to a sitting position. He instantly gets his hand off his dick, as if it’s burned him and turns to Richie with wide eyes. He looks kind of tired, honestly, but he always looks kind of tired and, well, he  _ has _ been working himself into a coma lately. Eddie looks down at his feet, sheepishly, and pulls his knees to his chest. 

“I-” before he can get another word out, Richie strikes him with a loud  _ smack _ . Eddie’s shocked. He’s been hit a few times, and he doesn’t dislike it enough to call a safe word, but he isn’t entirely sure how to feel, otherwise. He likes the pain, to a degree, and he  _ really _ likes the humiliation, but it only happens when he’s  _ really, really _ in trouble, so it always takes him aback and kind of makes him feel like shit. 

“What was that, huh?” Richie asks, and he’s close and he’s pissed. His hand wraps around Eddie’s neck, squeezing just a little bit. Eddie swallows thickly, breathing shallowly through his nose. “Is Daddy’s little slut not getting enough fucking attention?” He squeezes harder. Eddie gasps. 

“No, Daddy.” He says. The corners of his eyes are beginning to tear up. He isn’t used to this side of Richie and it scares him in the most exciting fucking way. “I missed you.” 

He sees Richie soften at that, and he would be proud of himself, but he knows if he shows it, it’ll just piss Richie off all over again. So he swallows and tries to look as guilty as possible. “I was thinking about you.” He whispers, and flicks his eyes back up, looking at Richie through his lashes. “I was thinking about how good you make me feel.” 

Just when he’s starting to think it’s working, that Richie is calming down and that he might actually get away with this, the spark reignites. The grip on his neck tightens, making Eddie gasp for air. He goes to grab at Richie’s forearm, but stops himself, afraid of making anything worse. He wasn’t trying to be a brat, really, and he doesn’t want to have to suffer any unnecessary consequences. 

“Get the fuck up.” Richie practically  _ growls _ and Eddie is quick to scramble to his feet. Richie has a good eight inches on him, which is comforting in their day to day lives, when Eddie and rest his head on his husband’s chest and get wrapped up in his strong arms, but it’s fucking  _ terrifying _ in moments like this, towering above him with a look of pure rage burning in his eyes. “On your knees.” 

Eddie must have hesitated for a moment too long, because he doesn’t even have time to think before Richie is shoving his shoulders down, making him stumble to the ground. A hand cards through his hair, grabbing a fistful of it and forcing his head back. “Are you fucking deaf?” Richie demands and Eddie shakes his head no. He’s tearing up again. “Or are you just stupid?” Eddie wants to respond, but he isn’t sure how. He’s afraid and he’s anxious, but most of the his shakes are from excitement and anticipation. Richie’s free hand traces the contours of his face, pausing to run a thumb over his lower lip. It’s a tender moment, just a soft pause to let Eddie know this is all in good fun. He knew that anyway, but the reassurance is nice. 

“You want some cock so bad, fine.” Richie lets go for just long enough to undo his jeans, shoving them just far enough down his legs to pull his cock out. Eddie salivates at the sight. “I’m gonna fuck your throat raw.” 

Eddie nods, a bubble of excitement rushing through him as he scoots forward, just enough to that his lips can graze the tip. He pokes his tongue out, giving it a soft kitten lick that makes Richie sigh. He cards his hand through Eddie’s hair again, keeping a firm grip on it to keep his head in place. “That’s it, baby.” He says. “Suck me off, nice and slow.” Eddie nods, unable to keep himself from beaming as he takes the head into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it, sucking greedily, and is happy to hear Richie groan above him. He knows he’s really good at this, that he could get Richie off real easily right now, and it fills him with joy to know that he’s making his Daddy happy. He can feel him getting hard on his tongue as he takes him further. Richie always does this, lets Eddie set the pace so he can get comfortable before his throat gets fucked. It’s one of those small gestures Eddie doesn’t find completely necessary but appreciates nonetheless. When he manages to get almost all of Richie in his mouth, staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes, as if to ask  _ what now? _ He gets  _ fucked _ . 

Richie bucks his hips hard, and it makes Eddie gag because he wasn’t quite expecting it. He manages to recover quickly, opening his mouth just a bit wider to avoid any collisions with teeth (which has, regrettably, happened before) and begins to breathe shallowly through his nose. He doesn’t need to be conscientious about keeping his head still, because Richie is doing that for him, fingers twisted in his hair and forcing him in place. He moves wildly and without abandon, thrusting his hips like an animal. Eddie swallows around him when he feels Richie reach the back of his throat. It’s a rhythm he has difficulty finding, but when he does, it makes Richie’s thighs quake. He tosses his head back and groan, grabbing the crown of Eddie’s head with his free hand and really going to town. Eddie has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from crying. His throat is sore already, but he also can tell Richie’s close and, well, he kind of feels like trash right now. It’s  _ amazing.  _

When Richie finishes with a growl, shoving his cock as far into Eddie’s mouth as it will go and spilling down his throat, Eddie swallows happily, greedily sucking Richie into his mouth and licking up every last drop. It doesn’t taste amazing, but he knows Richie likes it a lot. And, frankly, Eddie does too. Richie has to take a breather, running his thumb over Eddie’s cheekbone before slowly pulling out. He tucks himself back in. 

“Stand up.” He says, and his voice sounds hoarse and used, which is funny, because Eddie thinks he should be the one who sounds that wrecked. “Bedroom, now.” Eddie nods and scrambles to their room, Richie hot on his heels. He can feel a large hand on the small of his back and it makes him smile. When they get inside, Richie slams the door behind him. He goes to the closet, the one where they keep all their fun things, and begins rummaging around. Eddie goes to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Take off your underwear,” Richie says, glancing over his shoulder to give Eddie a look. “Leave the shirt on.” 

Eddie almost wants to smirk. He doesn’t fully understand why Richie likes fucking him while he’s wearing his clothes, but Eddie doesn’t mind all too much. He likes feeling owned, like he belongs to him. 

When Richie returns, it’s with a bottle of lube, and a flogger. Eddie eyes the items for a moment, because he  _ knows _ what’s coming and he almost wants to complain. Almost. “Lay down, baby.” Richie murmurs, and his voice is soft. Eddie does as he’s told, letting his head hit the pillows and stretching himself out. Richie runs a hand up the expanse of his stomach, creating chills through his skin. Eddie shivers. “Turn over.” He whispers. Eddie doesn’t complain. 

Richie pushes his shirt up to expose the expanse of his back. He has a few light scars from when they first started doing this and weren’t very careful. They’ll fade away eventually, but the vain part of Eddie still hates that they’re there at all. He thinks Richie likes them though. He always trails his lips over them. The first strike catches Eddie off guard and it makes him cry out. Richie chose the big leather one, the heavy one that leaves the stingy pain. Eddie likes it, but only sometimes. Usually, it’s just a little too much for him, very much so blurring the lines between good pain and bad pain. Not to mention Richie has an  _ arm _ on him. Even when Eddie isn’t in trouble, he doesn’t hold back, striking him as hard as he can and making him shake and whimper and beg for  _ more more more _ . 

“Fuck!” Eddie shouts at the second strike, and his voice is so weak and wrecked, he sounds like he’s been crying and, for some reason, that though makes tears spring into his eyes. Richie hits him again, and Eddie actually  _ sobs _ , tears rolling down his cheeks as he buries his face in the pillow below him. By the fourth strike, he can hold himself up on his elbows anymore, can only collapse on the mattress and fist his hands into the sheets, shaking at each blow. Eddie thinks he could come from this, although he can’t and it’s all subspace delusion, but his body is thrumming with so much electricity that it feels like it’s about to pop. 

“Fuck me Daddy, please, please, want your cock so bad.” He’s shaking real bad, and babbling like a crazy person, but it gets Richie to pause for a moment before landing a final, harsh strike. Eddie’s whole body goes tense and he shakes. It almost feels like he’s cumming, but he’s  _ not _ and, ultimately, that’s the part that hurts the most. Richie could blow on his cock right now and he’d be a goner. A harsh strike lands on his ass, but it doesn’t hurt as much as the flogger, so Eddie almost feels like it’s a cool down. He squeak softly and shoves his face further into the pillows. 

“You just want Daddy’s cock, huh baby?” Richie asks, almost mockingly. Eddie nods. 

“Yes, yes,  _ please _ .” He hears a cap opening, followed by the sound of Richie squeezing out a generous amount of lube. He circles two fingers around Eddie’s rim, making him jump and twitch. Once the initial shock wears off, he pushes his hips back eagerly. Richie is slow in opening him up, because even in their most heated moments, he’s very, very cautious about not hurting Eddie. It’s really sweet, but it also makes Eddie whine. All he wants his more. Richie doesn’t give it to him, though. Not out of teasing cruelty, but because his head is clear enough to take proper precautions and he isn’t about to cause his husband,  _ the love of his lif _ e, any sort of physical pain. Well, not any  _ unwanted _ physical pain. He scissors his finger, opening Eddie up and stretching him out nice and slow, getting his pretty hole gaping and ready to take a load of cum. If Richie is feeling really nice after this, and Eddie is a good boy, he’ll felch it out of him. 

They both moan loudly when Richie finally,  _ finally _ slides in. Eddie is losing his mind. He keeps pushing his hips back and letting out a mantra of  _ yes, yes, yes! _ And clearly it’s encouraging, because it’s making Richie  _ fuck  _ him. The way his hips are moving has Eddie’s head spinning, ruthlessly pounding into him, gripping his hips hard enough to leave bruises in the shapes of his finger prints. Eddie’s drooling. He doesn’t even  _ know _ when the last time he did that was, but there’s spit dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Richie tugs his head up, pressing his lips to the side of his neck and planting his free arm firmly in the bed, making Eddie feel caged in and helpless. He  _ missed _ this. 

“Gonna cum like this?” He asks. Eddie nods vigorously. “Gonna cum on my cock like the fucking whore you are?” 

That does it. That mixed with Richie hitting is prostate dead on, ruthless and cruel and  _ so fucking good _ has Eddie screaming. His body quakes so badly, vision getting spotty as waves of heat wash over his. Ropes of thick, warm cum spill out all over the sheets and Eddie’s stomach, making a mess of their bed and a mess of himself. He fucking showered for nothing. Richie doesn’t take long to follow, hips twitching as he spills inside Eddie. He pulls out and quickly goes to collect the cum dripping out of him with his tongue, shoving it as far inside his husband as it will go. Eddie squeaks and scrambles to grab onto something,  _ anything _ , because the overstimulation is too much, getting to him in a way that makes his head spin. 

“ _ Richie, _ ” he whines, and Richie doesn’t correct him. His mouth is a bit preoccupied. When he’s done, he flips Eddie over, using his thumb to coax his mouth open and spitting his own cum into Eddie’s mouth. He swallows it without question. Their mouths meet in a kiss that’s messy and gross and desperate, but not in the same way their sex was. They’re desperate for each other, the feel of a warm body and the comfort of having someone close. 

“I love you,” Richie whispers when they break away, and he traces his thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie smiles softly, and then says something Richie doesn’t understand, because he’s mumbling and his words are slurred. Richie can’t help but say something dumb. 

“I’m going to break the moment.” He warns, and does that stupid grin he does when he knows he’s about to say something exceptionally terrible. Eddie groans and rolls over. 

“Don’t you fucking  _ dare _ .” He says. 

“I have to, babe.” Eddie huffs. 

“Fine. What?” 

“I have no idea what you just said to me and for a second I was looking for the subtitles.” Eddie blinks at him, brows furrowed. 

“You’re the  _ worst _ . I said you're my heart and soul and that I can’t live without you. Now I take it back.” Richie laughs and wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, snuggling up to him. He presses a kiss to the back of his neck. 

“Let me help you clean up.” He says, and Eddie yawns. 

“In a bit. Right now, just hold me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> As a lesbian dom, I have no idea why I decided to write from the perspective of a gay sub. Also, for a woman who is only attracted to other women, I have a weird obsession with cum :/
> 
> Edit: comments and kudos are welcome and appreciated!!!! The more comments are get, the more likely I am to keep producing content!!


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